“There is,” he says, standing and helping me up. “We can join the others on deck and hold each other until the moment this magical night ends.”
I cling to him as we leave the bathroom, feeling like I’m walking to my own death rather than his. My vision blurs from tears as we make our way through the halls and up to the deck where a crowd has already gathered.
There are a lot more couples at the end of this night than there were at the beginning, and it seems like everyone had a good time. I notice Nyx sitting side by side with a beautiful woman in a black dress that looks like someone forgot a lot of the pieces. Nyx looks like she’s been crying--and honestly, that’s a mood. But she’s got a smile now.
She catches my eye, and we give a brief nod to each other. Sisters in solidarity. I hope she found what she was looking for tonight.
I sure did. Even if now I have to say goodbye to it all.
I turn into my love’s arms as the sky above us begins to flicker with a light show that Gandalf himself would be envious of.
But I only have eyes for the man in front of me. I study him, memorizing the freckle on his left cheek, the shape of his jaw, the way his smile lights up his eyes. I hold him close to me, relishing the love I feel just by being near him.
For a year, this man has been my everything. Now, I’m about to lose him forever.
There are oohs and aahs around us as the fireworks become more intense.
“I love you,” I say, knowing I need to make my last words count but not knowing how to express the complex emotions I’m experiencing. I love you sounds so trite. I’ve said I love ice cream and a good drink, so how can I use the same word to describe what this man has done to me?
In his eyes, I can see he understands. The words may be inadequate, but the shared experience of our bond is not.
“I will love you always, Anna Jane.”
People around us begin to fade and disappear, and I want to scream at the world to stop, to pause, because I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready.
But then, I feel the magic working on us too, and as tightly as I try to hold on to my beautiful Leo, it does no good.
Whatever magic brought us together tears us apart. I feel him slipping from my grasp, the distance between us growing, and then I am standing in my yard again, staring up at a waning moon that just last night seemed to grant my heart’s desire but has now torn if from me.
The sun is about to rise, but there are a few minutes left of twilight, and the fall air is chilly. I don’t feel the cold though; I only feel the loss.
I wrap my arms around my chest and sob, the crushing weight of Leo being gone too much for my broken heart to bear.
When I hear my name, it startles me out of my pity party.
I turn, stunned, my heart stammering in my chest, and I see what I hope is actually real and not a mirage designed by my troubled mind.
Before me stands Leo. Not an apparition, not a translucent hologram version. This is real Leo, in all his beautiful flesh and blood.
He looks as stunned as I feel. “Am I… am I really here? Is this Heaven?”
We rush toward each other. I throw myself in his arms, and he buries his face in my hair, both of us crying. “You’re really here?” I ask.
He steps away from me to look at his own body, like he needs a visual to confirm he’s standing there. He pats his legs and torso, making sure his hands won’t just pass through. When his palm hits his breast pocket, his brow furrows. He reaches into the pocket and pulls out a small slip of paper.
“It’s for you,” Leo says, no less confused than before.
“Huh?” I reach for the note and see that “AJ” is written on the outside fold. My fingers tremble as I open the paper up.
I hope you don’t mind, but I loved the pendant you wore to the ball and decided to keep it. I know your ghost used to inhabit that piece, so I’ve given him a body to live in instead. Live in the moment, and enjoy your love.
“What does it say?” Leo asks, trying to get a read on my face.
I shake my head, then rush into his embrace again. I’m too overcome with joy to read it aloud, so he’ll have to look at it later.
Even having read the note, and knowing it came from the woman in the bathroom, I still can’t explain any of it. Fortunately, that doesn’t matter. The magic that brought us this night has given us the rest of our lives, and I’m not going to waste a damn minute of it.
Second Chances
Second Chances
Las Vegas. Sin City or City of Second chances, take your pick. It’s been my experience that people tend to lean more toward sinning than undertaking anything with a redeeming quality, but that’s probably just my cynical side shining through.
“Have you found one yet?” my mother practically screams in my ear as the music in the nightclub reaches a fever pitch.
“Patience, Syndra. There are hundreds of people here. You know it takes me longer to find you a target when there are so many grays in one place.”
With a huff, my mother begins to smooth out an imaginary wrinkle from the waistline of her skintight black dress. All Hallows’ Eve is only a day away, and for the Omnia costume party, she's decided to dress up as a fae replete with dark feathery wings and curved horns jutting out the sides of her head. The wicked smile on her face comes naturally. Among the crowd of partygoers inside the Omnia nightclub, she fits right in with the night’s theme as do I in my slinky Poison Ivy costume.
“You know I hate it when you call me by my first name, Eve.” She gives me a brief but cutting glare before lovingly tucking one side of my red hair behind my ear. “I’m your mother. I deserve more respect from you.”
“Don’t you think it would sound odd for people to hear me calling you Mom when we both look like we’re in our mid-twenties?”
My mother briefly raises her eyebrows. “Perhaps, but I still hate it when you do that.”
As we return our attention to the mass of horny, gyrating humans on the dance floor, I begin to tap the tips of my black painted nails in time with the music against the second-floor balcony’s glass railing. To my eyes, the people below us look like they glow gray. From my earliest memory, I’ve always been able to view the state of a person’s soul. Gray souls are humdrum average and of no interest to either me or my mother. What I’m searching for is someone who has a red aura or, even better, an iridescent one. The odds of me finding someone who glows red are pretty good, especially on a night like this one, but finding one who has an iridescent glow? I would have more luck finding a unicorn. At least I’ve seen more than one of those.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of what my mother desires most tonight. A handsome man in his mid-thirties walks over to a girl, carrying two martini glasses in his hands. As he approaches her, his red aura pulses like a malevolent living creature around his body, writhing in anticipation of a feast. The girl is a gray who has no clue that her life is in mortal danger.
Those with red auras are the dregs of humanity. They’ll lie, cheat, steal, and even kill to get whatever they want, and this man is ripe for my mother’s picking. She prefers to enslave the worst humankind has to offer and suck their souls dry until they no longer possess the will to live. Even though she’s a succubus, my mother still has a particular moral code that she tries to live by.